


ACOMAF - Rhysand's Perspective - Part 7

by OtterlyWasted



Series: ACOMAF - Rhysand's Perspective [7]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, MAAS Sarah J. - Works
Genre: Hybern, Illyrian Camps, Illyrians, Prythian, Starfall, The Night Court, Velaris
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:00:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23679532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtterlyWasted/pseuds/OtterlyWasted
Summary: WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.This Section:Ch. 1 - Meeting with the Queens the first time.Ch. 2 - Plans to steal the VeritasCh. 3 - Under Hewn city - on the throne. (ADULT)More chapters to come soon! (Fingers crossed!)I hope you all enjoy!*Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.
Series: ACOMAF - Rhysand's Perspective [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1373512
Comments: 48
Kudos: 97





	1. Check and Mate

The sight of the Queens brought forth a memory from the distant past, hundreds of years ago when I stood beside my father at the war council table. We were not a welcome addition to the council, the hatred for our Court was just as overwhelming then as it was now, and it some ways it was well earned. My father was not a kind male, he ruled with an iron fist and often used cruelty in place of respect. When the war came between the humans and the fae the truth was we had no real stake in it, a thousand years prior my ancestors had expelled all humans, free and slaves, from our lands in order to maintain our secrets - so the welfare of the humans outside our lands hardly impacted us. I wanted to say my father decided to enter the war for illustrious reasons, because he honestly felt the humans deserved their freedom, but the truth was he saw the war as a means to an end - power. Yes, the war would mean the loss of life, Illyrian lives most likely from our lands - which in his mind were easily disposed of, but the opportunity to grab additional land and resources, and thus power, was too great an opportunity to pass up. Thus we joined the war council, and took a high seat on it as my father committed a large, well trained and ruthless aerial force to the fight.

It was on the council that I first met the rebel leaders of the human forces. Jurian was one of them, at first meeting I liked him, he was cocky and arrogant, and yet self depreciating in a way that made him almost endearing - it was unfortunate that as the war went on his personality soured and he became possessed with the need to win, no matter the cost. It was also at this council that I met the group of human women who would eventually become known as “the Queens”. In those days the human women were fierce and independent, fighting right along with the men, and the Queens were no different - they were not bedecked in jewels and fine clothes, but armored and armed. Despite their relatively frail physique, in comparison to the fae fighting beside them, they were hearty women and I could not help but be impressed by them. Mor was fast friends with the original Queens and often fought at their side - it was one of the reasons I wanted her here with us at this first meeting with the current Queens. I could but hope they held among them the legends of Morrigan and believe she was a fierce and trustworthy companion.

With the Queens sudden arrival, a fact which was still rather startling that they appeared in the room as though they had winnowed, the new game began. Feyre and I had played a game in the Summer Court, and she had done well there though she had lacked in experience of such things - this would be a new game and I had no doubt she would surpass my greatest expectations. We all had a part to play, and mine would be the spring board in which Feyre’s attempt would be launched.

Taking a breath, I remained still and calm as I spoke quietly, breaking the initial silence, “Well met.”

My first impression of these new Queens was lacking, and honestly I was not surprised though I was disappointed. The first thing I noticed was that there were only five Queens, when originally there had been six. I was as yet uncertain what that meant but it was something to note and consider. The next thing I noted, beyond the small armament of soldiers they brought with them as a show of power, which was laughable and yet I was not laughing, was the division of power amongst the Queens themselves. They stood in a straight line, going from eldest to youngest at either end of the line, and it was easy to discern by the way the women shifted and held themselves, that the true power amongst them was held by the eldest at one end and one of the youngest at the other. The women in the middle might have a voice and the right to be heard, but it would be those two with whom the decisions would remain.

Examining the Queens closer I took in the small details, things that, on the surface, hardly mattered, but when woven into the big picture could alter the course of this meeting. The elder Queen, brown-skinned with eyes that shone cold and sharp, set in a deeply wrinkled face, was dressed in what could have been described as the plainest outfit out of all the Queens. That was not to say the quality of her clothing was not extravagant, just that the cut and color was more muted.

The next two, who appeared middle-aged, were uniquely opposites. One dark of skin and hair, the other light; one sweet-faced and the other hewn of stone; one smiling and one frowning. Ironically they even wore gown of black and white, and they seemed to even move in response to each other, as though one was a question, and the other the answer. I found myself curious about their kingdoms, and if the matching silver rings they wore was indicative of some other form of bound.

The last two Queens were obviously the youngest of the five. The first was likely a few years older than Feyre, black-haired and black-eyed, and something about her demeanor told me she was deathly cunning and the look in her eyes made me uncomfortable. With a shock that traveled the length of my spine, like a cold breath of wind, I realized the look in her eyes reminded me of Amarantha. With an effort I kept my face neutral and forced my attention to the final Queen, praying neither they nor Feyre felt my trepidation.

The final Queen was undoubtedly the loveliest, truthfully the only beautiful one amongst them all. She was also older than Feyre, in her thirties I would guess, with wildly curly hair like spun gold, and eyes of amber. Even her freckled brown skin appeared dusted with gold, with a body that curved in a way that would distract most men… and she knew it, and used it to her advantage. Not here however, not with us, but elsewhere I knew she would have men on her knees before her, and women jealous of her power. A lion in human flesh.

And yet she could not hold a torch to my… to Feyre, who stood tall beside me. If only she believed in herself she could shatter worlds with a mere smile. She was stronger now than before, yet that darkness and doubt overwhelmed her mind and kept her bound most days. I could but hope someday she would truly be set free.

Taking a subtle breath I slid my hands into my pockets and waited for the Queens to make the next move. After a moment of continued silence in which no one moved, the youngest Queen finally gave a subtle nod, a signal to their guards to split off around the room, surrounding the chairs provided for the Queens. Eying their movements it reminded me of a cat, arching its back and extending its hair in order to look larger and more dangerous, when it was no more powerful than it had been originally. The truth was that the guards presence was laughable at best and honestly it made the Queens look weak. Any one of us could easily wipe the guards out without batting an eye, even Feyre, who was the least trained amongst us. Had the Queens arrived alone, or even with one, perhaps two guards, instead of an entire entourage, they would have appeared strong and proud, instead they only looked weak and desperate. Unfortunately, in a way, that only made them more dangerous - a desperate animal backed into a corner could be more dangerous than anticipated.

Glancing side-long at Feyre, it was easy to see she was nervous but still determined to make this meeting a success. I wanted to smile, proud of her strength, but held back, retaining my public mask - indifferent and arrogant - yet altering it this time to be… kind. Unusual for the High Lord of the Night Court, to appear kind, and yet how badly I wished that this mask was my true face, and that it was not a lie to endear these Queens, but a truth in which we could meet on common ground.

A hope, for the future.

Taking a quiet breath, I stepped forward, drawing a quick and almost panicked reaction from the Queens and their guards, who placed their hands on their weapons in caution. Behind me neither Cassian nor Azriel reacted to their guards movements, standing calm and quiet, confident in my skills as their High Lord and brother in arms.

Bowing my head slightly I offered a sign of deference and respect to the Queens I was not required to offer, and spoke calmly, “We are grateful you accepted our invitation.” Glancing among them again, I decided to ask for an answer to the first riddle, “Where is the sixth?”

The eldest Queen spoke in turn, her ancient eyes meeting mine solidly as she spoke, “She is unwell, and could not make the journey.” There was no reason to doubt what she said, and yet I could not help the nagging feeling that this was a lie. I could easily have read her mind for the truth… except that we had no idea what might trigger the Book to self destruct. It was not worth the risk to know the truth, not yet anyways. Her gaze turned to Feyre, sizing her up before she said, in a statement rather than a question, “You are the emissary.” A chill went up my back that she should say this with such confidence, as though she knew clearly who Feyre was, yet how could she know?

I felt Feyre stiffen, wondering if she felt it to, the uncertainty of how this mortal Queen seemed to know exactly who she was. If she was concerned by this she did not otherwise show it and replied simply, “Yes. I am Feyre.”

The elder Queen returned her gaze to me and arched a brow, a touch of amusement gracing her wrinkled features. “And you are the High Lord who wrote us such an interesting letter after your first few were dispatched.”

Down the bond Feyre and I shared I could feel her confusion and curiosity, which thoroughly pleased me, signs she was alive and _living_ , and with an internal smirk and a touch of humor I sent a thought to her.

_You didn_ _’t ask what was inside them._

She had left her mental shields down just enough so that we might communicate this way, and I could feel her touch of amusement and annoyance at my words, though she did not respond in kind.

Nodding once to the elder Queen I replied, “I am,” then shifted slightly and drew one hand from my pocket in order to gesture behind me to Mor, “And this is my cousin, Morrigan.”

Taking my gesture almost as though a summons, Mor stalked forward until she was standing on my other side, positioning herself as my equal, and yet she bowed to the Queens as neither Feyre nor myself had done, and as such marked herself below them in station, a subtle act which cost her nothing and rewarded us with the Queens pleasure to be treated with deference.

The youngest Queen, golden and lovely, eyed Morrigan closely, though she said nothing, yet there was a hint of… recognition in her eyes. Curious.

“It was been a long time since I met with a mortal Queen,” Mor said once she stood from her bow.

Surprise crossed the faces of the other Queens, and I was pleased to see that indeed the legend of Morrigan had not been forgotten. I watched as the middle aged Queen, the one dressed in black and pale in coloring, placed her hand on her lower bodice as she said in quiet awe, “Morrigan - _the_ Morrigan from the War,”

Mor simply bowed again in response, then stood and gestured, “Please - sit.”

Without further comment, the Queens, almost as one, sat. Their guards remained standing and fanned around them, alert and nervous still, their eyes watchful of us and the room, their hands remaining on their weapons.

Once they were settled we took our seats as well, with Cassian and Azriel remaining behind us standing, relaxed and yet poised. The golden Queen smoothed out her skirts as she cast her gaze towards Feyre’s sisters, “I assume those are our hosts.”

Glancing briefly towards them I watched as Nesta stiffened, her gaze cutting and sharp as ever, and sweet faced Elain blushed, bobbing a curtsy - it did not go unnoticed that Nesta provided no such deference. I could not but be amused.

Feyre nodded once and clarified, “My sisters.”

The golden Queen returned her eyes to Feyre, studying her yet again, focusing her attention on the crown resting on her brow, a hint of accusation in her eyes. Looking back at me she arched a brow, “An emissary wears a golden crown. Is that a tradition in Prythian?”

A flash of anger rushed through me at her dismissive tone, and I knew Feyre could feel it, but neither of us showed any hint of surprise or anger. Instead I smirked slightly and said in a tone that was almost teasing, “No, but she certainly looks good enough in one that I can’t resist.”

None of the Queens laughed, though the golden Queen did appear to muse over my words before continuing with her train of thought, though no longer quite as dismissive, in fact there was a touch of awe to her words. “A human turned into a High Fae… and who is now standing beside a High Lord at the place of honor. Interesting.”

I didn’t need to look at Feyre to know her reaction, I had seen her response to such attention Under the Mountain - disdain, awe, disgust - and each time Feyre met it head on, shoulders back, chin high, eyes bright. Feyre did not back down, she did not flinch, she faced her enemies proudly, even in the face of impending defeat.

In a way, Feyre reminded me of my sister - beautiful and wild, proud and free - delicate like a wild flower, but strong enough to bear the brunt of the wild mountain winds. The reminder of this made my heart ache with such bitter happiness and pride. Almost instinctively I blocked these emotions from Feyre, fearing to overwhelm her with them, especially at this moment where so much of our hope hung in the balance before these Queens.

A minute of silence passed and then the elder Queen lifted her chin and declared primely, “You have an hour of our time. Make it count.”

It seemed my cousin’s curiosity could no longer be contained as she leaned forward and asked a question, while not pertinent to our main mission, still weighed heavily on my mind as well as hers apparently. “How is it that you can winnow?”

The golden Queen smiled, though at best the smile could be called mocking, as she replied, “It is our secret, and our gift from your kind.”

Mor leaned back, amused and intrigued, but left her curiosity on the wayside. It was time to get to the heart of the matter, and it was Feyre who would have to lead us there. Shifting in my seat I looked towards her and met her gray-blue eyes, communicating all of my confidence in her with just a look. She met my gaze, taking my confidence for her own, swallowed, then looked back towards the Queens. “War is coming,” she said quietly, looking to each Queen in turn before she continued. “We called you here to warn you - and to beg a boon.”

The Queens did not look surprised nor dismayed, they simply stared at us for a long, nearly interminable minute before the elder Queen deigned to respond. “We know war is coming.” Folding her hands in her lap she continued calmly, “We have been preparing for it for many years.”

This was… unexpected. And concerning. If they had been preparing, then all of those preparations had been done on the main continent and none had been spared for this tiny slip of land here on Prythian inhabited by the humans. As a warrior and commander, I could understand that logic to an extent - this bit of land was tiny, the humans inhabiting it were small in numbers, and the likelihood of defending against an army of fae unlikely. Tactics would demand it be written off as an expected loss, and it would make more sense to build up defenses where the land and the amount of people was greater, and more under their control. Logistically it made sense, morally however it was cold and cruel, and it made my heart ache. I knew, however, that before Feyre, before I knew and loved a human, I would have agreed and even volunteered such tactics, but now… now I could not but reject them. This slip of land, these people, untrained and untried, defenseless and mortal, mattered, they deserved protection as much as those living on the continent.

Through the bond I could feel Feyre’s pain as she reasoned this out for herself, yet she spoke calmly, betraying none of her own heart ache. “The humans in this territory seem unaware of the larger threat. We’ve seen no signs of preparation.”

The golden Queen shrugged once as she responded coolly, “This territory is a slip of land compared to the vastness of the continent. It is not in our interest to defend it. It would be a waste of resources.”

Despair and anger flooded down the bond from Feyre, and I could not ward myself against it. They were not wrong, and yet… looking at Feyre, for all that she was fae, she had the heart of a mortal, and I could see her as she had been Under the Mountain. Frail and fierce and desperate, standing against the terrible might of Amarantha, with no hope of winning, and in the end she lay, broken and bleeding, and sacrificed it all to save _us._ One human, inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, and yet so vitally important that she changed the course of this world. This woman, this female, she mattered, not just to me, but to the whole world, and this slip of land, tiny and unimportant, mattered.

Looking from Feyre to the Queens I drawled, “Surely the loss of even one innocent life would be abhorrent.”

The elder Queen looked at me without emotion. “Yes. To lose one life is always a horror. But war is war. If we must sacrifice this tiny territory to save the majority, then we shall do it.”

I felt Feyre’s calm demeanor begin to crack beneath the weight of these words, could imagine her thoughts as she pictured her sisters facing the waves of fae that would overrun them and destroy their world. I wanted to reach out for her, to take her hand, to offer her my comfort and strength, and yet I dared not do it in this moment. I could only hope that her pain and fear, so human at their core, might yet sway these Queens who stood above it all.

“There are good people here.”

The golden Queen tossed her head and replied sweetly, though underneath her words there was barely concealed contempt. “Then let the High Fae of Prythian defend them.”

The silence in the room echoed. As one I could feel the rage boiling beneath the surface of my companions at her callous words. Yet it was not Feyre or Mor, or even Cassian who spoke up in anger, though I shouldn’t have been too surprised when it was Nesta who took up the battle standard.

Behind us I heard Nesta take a step forward, and glanced towards her as she hissed sharply, “We have servants here. With families. There are _children_ in these lands. And you mean to leave us all in the hands of the Fae?”

There was something almost glorious in her anger, her back straight and tall, her hands clenched at her sides, her blue-gray eyes snapping with ferocity. I shifted my gaze to Feyre and observed how she looked at her sister, her face touched with pride and love, though I think no one else would have seen it unless they understood her in the way I did, had seen the depths of her mind and soul as only I have.

“It is no easy choice, girl-” the elder Queen began, her voice taking on a soft quality.

Nesta did not back down, if anything she charged forward with her words. “It is the choice of _cowards._ ”

Feyre stepped in then, despite her pride in her sister she was trying to stop an all out war in this room alone, hoping to negotiate a truce. “For all that your kind hate ours… You’d leave the Fae to defend your people?”

The golden Queen tilted her head, causing her golden curls to cascade over her shoulder as she replied nonchalantly. “Shouldn’t they?” She arched a brow and continued, “Shouldn’t they defend against a threat of their own making?” She snorted then, delicately, “Should Fae blood not be spilled for their crimes over the years?”

I angled my body towards her and replied calmly, “Neither side is innocent.” I considered my words for a minute, treading carefully as I continued, “But we might protect those who are. Together.”

The elder Queen frowned, her wrinkles seeming to deepen as her face twisted in near disdain. “Oh? The High Lord of the Night Court asks us to join with him, save lives with him. To fight for peace. And what of the lives you have taken during your long, hideous existence? What of the High Lord who walks with darkness in his wake, and shatters minds as he sees fit?” She let our a harsh laugh, “We have heard of you, even on the continent, Rhysand. We have heard what the Night Court does, what you do to your enemies.” Her eyes hardened as she stared directly at me without an ounce of compassion. “ _Peace?_ For a male who melts minds and tortures for sport, I did not think you knew the word.”

I met her gaze without flinching - it was nothing I hadn’t heard before. The High Lord of darkness, of cruelty and death and pain. It was my legacy, the shroud I had been bequeathed at birth and bore without shame, because beneath this shroud lived my people, in peace and safety. Yes, I had killed and even tortured, but in all of my five hundred years only once had it been done out of malice, and even then it was done in retribution for the murder of my mother and sister. I bore no shame for my actions, for each “crime” that she accused me of had been in the defense of the land and people I so dearly loved. So no, her words could not hurt me, they could not even touch me.

But I could feel Feyre burning, her rage simmering just beneath the surface and radiating down the bond. She took great offense to the crones words that were hurled at me, aimed at harming me and entirely missing their mark. Without looking towards Feyre I intended to send a wave of cooling darkness down the bond towards her, but before I could I felt her restrain the rage that burned, and I could not but help feel proud of her - it was the mark of a leader, to be able to subdue the rage that threatened to overwhelm in the light of the ultimate goal. The Book - we needed it, and no matter what else was said or done, it was the only reason for this meeting. In the end, Feyre needed no coaxing from me as she stolidly replied to the elder Queen, “If you will not send forces here to defend your people, then the artifact we requested-”

The elder Queen sharply cut her off with her cool words, “Our half of the Book, child, does not leave our sacred palace. It had not left those white walls since the day it was gifted as part of the Treaty. It will never leave those walls, not while we stand against the terrors in the North.”

Frustration and despair laid thickly over us as silence took the place of her coldly calculated words. I felt the weight of failure begin to rest upon my shoulders, as it had many times before in my life, it was only due to a lifetime of sheer stubbornness that I could begin to organize the next plan in my mind, and the steps that would need to be taken. I would need to go to the Queen’s palace myself, my family would not be pleased, it would be easier not to tell them, but after last time…

“Please.”

The word cut through my thoughts sharply and I felt my heart constrict as I looked towards Feyre. Her eyes were orbs of agony as she beseeched the Queens, begging them as she had never begged before, not even when she was beaten, starved, humiliated, tortured nor killed. She had never before begged, and yet now she laid herself bare, pleading, not for herself, but for all the lives the Book could save.

_I will bow for nothing and no one, but my crown._

It was a promise to all those who were my subjects, that I would sacrifice everything that I was to protect them, no matter the cost. Today, this moment, Feyre had proven herself worthy of the crown she bore. The pride swelling up in me was nearly overwhelming as I continued to stare at her.

“I was turned into _this_ \- into a faerie - because one of the commanders from Hybern _killed_ me.”

I could not help but flinch at her words, and behind me, our companions seemed to hold a collective breath as she continued to plead our case.

“For fifty years,” she continued, “she terrorized Prythian, and when I defeated her, when I freed its people, she _killed_ me. And before she did, I witnessed the horrors that she unleashed on human and faerie alike. One of them - just _one_ of them was able to cause such destruction and suffering. Imagine what an army like her might do. And now their king plans to use a weapon to shatter the wall, to destroy _all_ of you. The war will be swift, and brutal. And you will not win. _We_ will not win. Survivors will be slaves, and their children’s children will be slaves. Please… Please, give us the other half of the Book.”

I had never felt such pride nor agony as I listened to her words, only shifting my attention back to the Queens when I could no longer bear to look at her lovely, desperate face any longer. The elder Queen glanced towards the golden one before she began to talk, taking on a placating tone, “You are young, child. You have much to learn about the ways of the world-”

Rage surged in me, and I could no longer hold back, could not stand to hear this foolish woman talk down to the female I loved so desperately who had sacrificed everything to save us.

“Do not,” I said said sharply, my voice deathly quiet, “condescend to her.”

The atmosphere in the room became tense as the elder Queen rightly looked nervous as she looked at me.

“Do not insult Feyre for speaking with her heart,” I continued, holding the elder Queens gaze, “with compassion for those who cannot defend themselves, when you speak from only selfishness and cowardice.”

The elder Queen stiffened at my words and narrowed her eyes. “For the greater good-”

“Many atrocities,” I said smoothly, “have been done in the name of the greater good.”

I was mildly surprised she did not look away, though whether that was from arrogance or foolishness I could not tell, but she replied calmly, “The Book will remain with us. We will weather this storm-”

“That’s enough,” Mor interrupted her, standing and staring down at the Queens with righteous anger. She had bowed to them in the beginning, but she was a Queen herself and she took up the mantel of her own power now and would not be gainsaid.

“I am the Morrigan,” she said, meeting each one of their eyes. “You know me. What I am. You know that my gift is truth. So you will hear my words no, and know them as truth - as your ancestors once did.”

The Queens remained silent as she spoke her truth. Mor gestured towards Feyre, “Do you think it is any simple coincidence that a human has been made immortal again, at the very moment when our old enemy resurfaces? I fought side by side with Miryam in the War, fought beside her as Jurian’s ambition and blood lust drove him mad, and drove them apart. Drove him to torture Clythia to death, then battle Amarantha until his own.” She took a sharp breath, and behind us I felt Azriel move a little closer, as though to defend her. Mor continued though, pressing her attack. “I marched back into the Black Land with Miryam to free the slaves left in that burning sand, the slavery she had herself escaped. The slaves Miryam had promised to return to free. I marched with her - my friend. Along with Prince Drakon’s legion. Miryam was my _friend_ , as Feyre is now. And your ancestors, those Queens who signed that Treaty… They were my friends, too. And when I look at you…” She bared her teeth now, wicked and powerful, my beloved Morrigan. “I see _nothing_ of those women in you, I know that your ancestors would be _ashamed._

“You laugh at the idea of peace? That we can have it between our peoples?” Her voice cracked slightly and I glanced up at her to see an ancient pain in her eyes, one I had not known existed within her. Azriel shifted closer, her pain calling out to him, though his face remained blank. “There is an island in a forgotten, stormy part of the sea. A vast, lush island, shielded from time and spying eyes. And on that island, Miryam and Drakon still live. With their children. With _both_ of their peoples. Fae and human and those in between. Side by side. For five hundred years, they have prospered on that island, letting the world belief them dead-”

I had to stop her, she had said too much already, revealed a secret that was not ours to share. “Mor,” I cut her off softly, meeting her agonized eyes and shook my head once, an order to say nothing else. She relented, still standing, still proud, but submitting to my command, understanding that this secret, while it could perhaps aid our cause, was too great a cost to pay.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the elder and golden Queen share a look again, communicating silently, before the elder Queen spoke again, her eyes bright. “Give us proof. If you are not the High Lord that rumor claims, give us one shred of proof that you are as you say - a male of peace.”

Agony tore through me as I knew instantly what the price retrieving the Book would demand.

Velaris.

It was a price that only I could pay.

To sacrifice the city I had sacrificed my body and soul to protect.

Feyre knew the price, I could feel her own agony radiating down the bond, and surprisingly her agony brought some peace to me. She was as unwilling to share Velaris as I was, she had seen the beauty and worth of my city, and knowing that she felt it worth the price I had paid for its safety eased a weight inside of me, and it brought me peace, even as the agony of what I was about to do swirled through me.

I stood smoothly, the Queens mirroring my action, as did Feyre who stood at my side, my friend and strength to face this trial with me. “You desire proof?” I replied, shrugging as nonchalantly as possible. “I shall get it for you. Await my word, and return when we summon you.”

The golden Queen narrowed her eyes as she replied, “We are summoned by no one, human or faerie.”

“Then come at your leisure,” I snapped, tired of their games. Their guard stepped forward, nervous at the bite in my words. I could only assume that Azriel, or more likely Cassian, did something in response because the guards paled and shifted anxiously.

Sliding my hands into my pockets again, I tilted my heads and said quietly, “Perhaps then you’ll comprehend how vital the Book is to _both_ our efforts.”

“We will consider it once we have your _proof_ ,” the elder Queen nearly spat. I wanted to roll my eyes at her tone, but restrained myself. “That Book has been ours to protect for five hundred years. We will not hand it over without due consideration.”

As though being signaled the guards moved forward again, surrounding the Queens, their hands still on their weapons, their eyes weary. The golden Queen smirked at us and said, almost playfully, “Good luck.”

And then they were gone. The room was suddenly too big, and too quiet, and the weight of this meeting bore down on me, almost suffocating me as I pondered the price I was due to pay.

I would not have thought anything could have pulled me from my heavy thoughts then, until I heard Elain - _Elain_ \- sigh and say quietly, “I hope they all burn in hell.”

I very nearly laughed, and could not agree more.


	2. Hard Decisions, Harder Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.
> 
> I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.
> 
> This Section:  
> Ch. 1 - Meeting with the Queens the first time.  
> Ch. 2 - Plans to steal the Veritas  
> Ch. 3 - Under Hewn city - on the throne. (ADULT)  
> More chapters to come soon! (Fingers crossed!)
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> P.S. Today is my birthday, yay being a year older! :P
> 
> *Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

We did not linger in the mortal lands, there was no point and we had business to take care of in Velaris, the sooner the better. Azriel, Cassian and Mor wisely withheld from talking to me, giving me this time to think and brood about what had happened and the decisions I would have to make. The return journey took a bit longer than the first journey here, as we had to split the group up. I first traveled to the wall with Cassian holding Mor in his arms, having left Feyre and Azriel behind at her sister’s Manor, perhaps giving her more time to say her farewells; though I knew, regardless of the extra time, they would be brief and awkward. Once through the wall I quickly winnowed Cassian and Mor back to the town house, then returned for Azriel and Feyre, and I was, unsurprisingly right. I found Azriel and Feyre alone, waiting in the foyer of the house, neither of her sisters in sight and a frustrated glint in her eyes which I knew was not just an echo from the meeting with the Queens.

Taking Feyre into my arms, her body pressed against mine, her weight comforting, a balm to my tortured soul. With Azriel flanking us it did not take us long to reach the Wall and pass through it, and once on the other side I began the process of winnowing the three of us home, finding Cassian and Mor waiting just inside in the living room with an impatient, rumpled and unusually pale Amren waiting for us. Setting Feyre on her feet I glanced around at all of them and suddenly found the walls stifling and the air difficult to breathe. Without saying a word I turned and passed by the dining and sitting room and made my way down the hall, past the kitchen and out into the small, overgrown and untended courtyard garden. Something about the wildness of the garden reached my soul, reminding me of the wild mountain paths I had grown up in, and suddenly I could breathe again. Making my way over to the dry fountain, I sat on the edge, my forearms braced on my knees and stared down at the moss-flecked flagstones between my feet.

Before long I heard them all join me, finding seats where they could, each of their eyes boring into me with questions that I feared I could not answer. It was times like these where I most felt the weight of my crown, because if I could not find the answers for my friends, my family, those whom I loved the most, how could I possibly find answers for the rest of my people?

Amren, reliably blunt, cut through the dark cloud of my thoughts with her sharp words. “If you’re out here to brood, Rhys, then just say so and let me go back to my work.”

I wanted to laugh at that, but I couldn’t find the humor anywhere in myself to do so. Lifting my gaze from the ground I met her swirling silver eyes and answered her unspoken question, “The humans wish for proof of our good intentions. That we can be trusted.”

I watched Amren’s gaze cut sharply to Feyre, though there was no accusation on her face, it still annoyed me. “Feyre was not enough?”

Feyre had left her shields down since the meeting with the Queens, but I didn’t need to hear her thoughts to know that she was going to blame herself, to find fault in everything she was and did. To hear her thoughts confirm this was beyond painful, and it made me want to lash out at Amren, even though I knew her question was not meant to be demeaning, she wasn’t questioning the veracity of Feyre but rather the obtusiveness of the Queens.

Taking a breath in order to keep myself from lashing out, I merely responded calmly, “She is more than enough.” The barest hint of a smile touched my face briefly when I felt Feyre snap her shields up, but it faded quickly. Looking back towards the ground again I studied it as though it might have the answers I sought, then said quietly, “They’re fools. Worse - frightened fools.”

A moment of silence passed before Cassian spoke up, almost cautiously. “We could… depose them. Get newer, smarter Queens on their thrones. Who might be willing to bargain.”

I could not fault him for his suggestion, in some ways it was a valid option, though it would prove true to their claims of our cruelty. Shaking my head slowly I shot his suggestion down, “One, it’d take too long. We don’t have that time.” That was if we could even accomplish it, Azriel’s attempts to infiltrate their palace had proven more than ineffective, they had proven deadly. I could try of course, I had more power than any of them, except for perhaps Amren, or perhaps Feyre, but was it worth the risk? If nothing else worked, the answer was yes, but there was another option, and it was not one I was happy about. Did I risk my city, or did I risk myself? I would always choose to risk myself first - but we could not be sure that would be successful in the end, what if my attempt caused the Book to self destruct? Taking a breath I explained part of my thoughts, “Two, who knows if that would somehow impact the magic of their half of the Book. It must be given freely. It’s possible the magic is strong enough to see our scheming.” Sighing I shook my head again, “We are stuck with them.”

Mor spoke up then, approaching the problem from another angle. “We could try again. Let me speak to them, let me go to their palace-”

“No,” Azriel said suddenly, cutting her off. I didn’t need to look up to know Mor was staring at him, shocked at his sudden denial of her suggestion. “You’re not setting foot in that human realm.”

Glancing up I saw her frown and reply sharply, “I fought in the War, you will do well to remember-”

“No,” Azriel said again, his words heavy with emotions neither of them dared delve into. His wings shifted, a sign of his agitation as he continued, “They would string you up and make an example of you.”

She snorted, “They’d have to catch me first.”

Azriel narrowed his eyes and nearly growled in frustration. “That palace is a death trap for our kind. Built by Fae hands to protect the humans from us. You set foot inside, Mor, and you won’t walk out again. Why do you think we’ve had such trouble getting a foothold in there?”

I winced and dropped my gaze back to the ground again, remembering the loss of the spy to that palace. Azriel bore the weight of that loss heavily, as did I - it was an inevitability that we would lose someone from time to time, but it always weighed heavily when we did.

Feyre stepped in then, stopping them from getting into a larger argument, perhaps a strategic move on her part, though it re-aligned us to the actual problem and I was both grateful and agitated that it would lead to the answer that none of us wanted.

“If going into their territory isn’t an option, and deceit or any mental manipulation might make the magic wreck the Book… What proof can be offered?”

I lifted my head to look at her as she glanced around the group, biting her lip before she continued, a little hesitantly.

“Who is - who is this Miryam? Who was she to Jurian, and who was that prince you spoke of - Drakon? Perhaps we… perhaps they could be used as proof. If only to vouch for you.”

Glancing at Mor I saw her frustration with Azriel petter out as she shift in her chair, glancing down and away. So it would be me to explain, that would be fine, it should be up to me to explain this to Feyre, she deserved to know and I would not lie or withhold the truth from her.

Interlocking my fingers I met her gaze and began to explain, “Five hundred years ago, in the years leading up to the War, there was a Fae kingdom in the southern part of the continent. It was a realm of sand surrounding a lush river delta. The Black Land. There was no crueler place to be born a human - for no humans were born free. They were all of them slaves, forced to build great temples and palaces for the High Fae who ruled. There was no escape; no chance of having their freedom purchased. And the Queen of the Black Land…” I trailed off, remembering her cruelty and malice and could not help but compare it to Amarantha, and felt the pain of those memories press in against me.

Mor stepped in, thinking she understood the cruelty of these two fae females and could compare, and it could have made me laugh were it not for the pain of the memories choking me. “She made Amarantha seem as sweet as Elain.”

If only that were true. And yet I could not but be grateful that Mor had never stood before Amarantha and her cruelty, she had already faced enough cruelty in her life, I could not bare to imagine her broken at Amarantha’s feet as I had been.

Shaking my head, I pressed on, trying to drive away the memories of Amarantha’s cruelty by telling Feyre the story of Miryam and Drakon. “Miryam was a half-Fae female born of a human mother. And as her mother was a slave, as the conception was… against her mother’s will, so, too, was Miryam born in shackles, and deemed human - denied any right to her Fae heritage.”

Amren cut in, obviously impatient to get on with this conversation. “Tell the full story another time. The gist of it, girl, is that Miryam was given as a wedding gift by the Queen to her betrothed, a foreign Fae prince named Drakon. He was horrified, and let Miryam escape. Fearing the Queen’s wrath, she fled through the desert, across the sea, into more desert… and was found by Jurian. She fell in with his rebel armies, became his lover, and was a healer amongst the warriors. Until a devastating battle found her tending to Jurian’s new Fae allies - including Prince Drakon. Turns out, Miryam had opened his eyes to the monster he planned to wed. He’d broken the engagement, allied his armies with the humans, and had been looking for the beautiful slave-girl for three years. Jurian had no idea that his new ally coveted his lover. He was too focused on winning the War, on destroying Amarantha in the North. As his obsession took over, he was blind to witnessing Miryam and Drakon falling in love behind his back.”

Mor straightened and snapped, “It wasn’t behind his back. Miryam ended it with Jurian before she ever laid a finger on Drakon.”

Amren shrugged, obviously disinterested with Mor’s version of the story. “Long story short, girl, when Jurian was slaughtered by Amarantha, and during the long centuries after, she told him what had happened to his lover. That she’d betrayed him for a Fae male. Everyone believed Miryam and Drakon perished while liberating her people from the Black Land at the end of the War - even Amarantha.”

Feyre considered this before she said slowly, “And they didn’t.” I nodded, as did Mor. She then asked, “It was all a way to escape wasn’t it? To start over somewhere else, with both their peoples?” We both nodded again, remaining quiet as Feyre sorted it out in her mind before she finally posed the real questions. “So why not show the Queens that? You started to tell them-”

I cut in, shaking my head, “Because in addition to it not proving a thing about _my_ character, which seemed to be their biggest gripe, it would be a grave betrayal of our friends. Their only wish was to remain hidden - to live in peace with their peoples. They fought and bled and suffered enough for it. I will not bring them into this conflict.”

Cassian arched his brows as he mused, “Drakon’s aerial army was as good as ours. We might need to call upon him by the end.”

I shook my head once as I met his gaze, a solid and absolute no. He understood, as did everyone else and it was not broached again.

Feyre frowned, and finally asked the question I dreaded more than anything else. “So what do we offer them instead?” She glanced around the group before meeting my gaze. “What do we show them?”

My heart plummeted into the ground, shattering as I finally told them the only answer there could be. “We show them Velaris.”

“What?” Mor damn near shrieked, and Amren quickly shushed her, but the shock and dismay on her face crushed me.

Yet it was Feyre’s heart broken face that cut me more deeply that anything Mor could say. “You can’t mean to bring them here,” she whispered.

Taking a breath I sighed, “Of course not. The risks are too great, entertaining them for even a night would likely result in bloodshed.” I said quietly, then shrugged. “So I plan to merely show them.”

Azriel countered me with a shake of his head, “They’ll dismiss it as mind tricks.”

I stood, sliding my hands into my pockets, an action which showed more than my words could say, that my decision was final. “No. I mean to _show_ them - playing by their own rules.”

Amren arched a brow and clicked her nails against each other. “What do you mean, High Lord?”

I didn’t answer her, but instead turned my attention to Mor. “Send word to your father. We’re going to pay him and my other court a visit.”

The group went silent, a sense of dread falling over everyone, except, perhaps, Amren, who merely smirked.

Mor finally met my gaze and said in disbelief, “You can’t be serious.”

I arched a brow, “I am deadly serious. We’re going to steal the Veritas.”

Cassian suddenly let out a booming laugh that made Mor flinch.

Feyre only looked confused, glancing back and forth between Mor and myself.

Amren crossed her legs and looked at her nails, “You’re going to need a better distraction than just holding court, Rhysand.”

I shrugged, “Mor and Cassian-”

She snorted, “Oh please, they’re like flies to Keir, annoying but easily ignored. You’ll need to do better than that.”

I stared at her and knew what she was going to say, my stomach clenched as though preparing for a punch I knew was going to hit hard.

Her silver eyes met mine without an ounce of mercy, and yet somewhere in their depths there was compassion. “Feyre will confuse and distract him with her mere presence. Have her do something… interesting, and he will be entirely focused on her and what her presence there really means.”

I couldn’t look away from Amren, my hands clenching into fists in my pockets because I knew what she meant by “interesting” and I couldn’t bear to think on it. I wanted to shake my head, I wanted to say _no_ and end the discussion there, except… it was her choice, it would always, _always_ , be her choice, and I would never deny her the right to make it.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I finally turned and looked at Feyre who was eying me with confusion and concern. After a moment she swallowed and then asked, “What do you need me to do?”

Taking a breath I said slowly, “I need you to play a part. We all play parts in Hewn city, and the part we… I need you to play will be…” I fell silent for a minute, studying her beautiful face, her gray-blue eyes that reminded me of the ocean at storm, so wild and untamed. She was strong enough to do this… but was I strong enough to ask? Could I survive her doing this? Something in her face shifted, her eyes hardening, not with anger but with… strength. Power. She was not begging me to trust her, she was demanding me to. My heart raced and I almost smiled. Almost. “The part I need you to play is the girl you were Under the Mountain when I had you join me at night. When you drank the wine.”

No one spoke, indeed I almost forgot anyone else was there, it was just Feyre and myself, and I was lost in her eyes as she searched mine. No one knew what had happened those nights, or at least all they knew was rumor and hearsay - though Azriel might know better, yet I doubted he ever spoke of it to anyone, and I had no doubt that Amren had guessed. Yet ultimately this was our secret, Feyre’s and mine, it was our shared pain, but I doubted she understood or even credited the pain I carried from those nights when I paraded her in front of all those Fae, showing her off as a pet I kept leashed at my side. I think though, as she stared into my eyes, that perhaps she saw some of my pain and regret, saw how much I hated myself for what I had done and maybe, just maybe she forgave me a little.

If only I could forgive myself.

Finally she nodded once and said simply, “I’ll do it.”

\- - - ~*~ - - -

It was Cassian who ushered us all inside not long after Feyre’s declaration that she would be our distraction, proclaiming he was starving. Nuala and Cerridwen set the table with a selection of simple, but delicious foods - a pork roast with potatoes and carrots, a green bean casserole, two types of bread, and several bottles of wine. While the wraiths were not fond of Amren they were dedicated to their work, whether it be spying or caring for my house and friends, and as such they made sure to provide her a fresh goblet of blood. Within minutes of her sipping at it her complexion blossomed and she no longer looked so sickly pale, which, despite the weight of my thoughts, was a definite relief.

After a few minutes where most everyone was too busy eating to talk, Feyre sat her fork down and asked quietly, “What exactly is the Veritas?”

Mor leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her wine before she began to explain. “My family’s power is… unique. Our power is truth. We can sense truth, we can use truth to heal or destroy. A millennia ago, when the High Lord of the Night Court belonged to my family, he made the Veritas. The orb… is truth.” She shrugged and frowned slightly, “It’s difficult to explain, but for now, just know that the orb can show the literal truth of Velaris.” She arched a brow, looking towards Rhysand, “Or perhaps, better yet, somewhere else in these lands.”

Cassian leaned forward then, “I agree, how about one of the temples you are rebuilding? That would show your kindness, surely.”

Sighing I pushed my plate away, having no appetite to speak of. “You know that wont be enough, they need to see not just my kindness, but my dedication to peace, to ensuring the continued prosperity of my people and my land.”

Cassian and Mor frowned, but before they could continue Feyre shifted in her seat and returned to her own string of questions. “But won’t the Queens question the validity of the orb? How is it any different than you showing them directly in their minds?”

I shook my head but it was Mor that jumped in before I could explain. “If they remember me then surely they remember the orb as it was used in the War. They will know, from their legends, what it did and that it shows the absolute truth.”

Feyre frowned at this but did not contradict Mor’s declaration. Instead she sat back, fiddling with the napkin in her lap as she stared down at the table, obviously thinking hard about something. I wanted to ask her what she was thinking about, wanted to unravel the secret places in her mind, but she kept her shield up and I would respect her right to privacy.

It was Amren who began to break the party up, by standing suddenly and nodding once to me before marching out of the town house without another word. Before long Mor had begun to withdraw into herself, looking pale and disquieted as she drank one glass of wine after another and I could not but ache for her. My beautiful cousin, even after all these years she still suffered so much from what had been done to her by her family, and I hated that she was forced to face them time and time again. I had offered her a way out, but she never took it and I would not deny her the right to make the choice. I still ached for her. Cassian fretted over her, watching her closely, as did Azriel though he was more subtle about it. It was after her third glass of wine that she finally stood and almost stumbled out of the house, denying Cassian’s offer to escort her home, or wherever she wanted to go. Shortly after her departure Azriel stood and said he needed to check in with his network of spies, but before he left he stopped at Cassian’s side.

“I’ll find Mor,” he said softly, meeting his brother’s gaze calmly, though you didn’t have to look hard to see the pain echoing in his eyes. “I’ll make sure she is safe.”

Cassian nodded and clapped Azriel on the shoulder before he stepped outside and took to the sky. Cassian glanced over to Feyre then and gave her a gentle grin, “No practice tomorrow, but I’ll expect you in the ring the day after.”

Feyre nodded at him, and he winked at her before he headed out as well. Finally we were alone and the silence weighed heavily between us. For once my tongue felt heavy, weighed down with all the words I needed to say and mired with all the reasons why I couldn’t. I watched as her fingers continued to fidget with the napkin on her lap, her eyes downcast and distant, as though her thoughts were miles and years away. I wanted to ask her about where her mind had traveled to, but this gave me an uninterrupted time to study her and I was selfish enough to take it. The weeks she had spent here in my court had brought her back to life, in some ways at least. Her body had begun to recover, her skin looking healthier and almost appearing to glow, her hair returning to its lustrous shine, curling gently down her back. I was relieved to see these changes, to see her recovery coming along so well, yet it was her mind that I worried the most about. I could see the doubts shadowing her every thought and the pain that still tore at her. And now I was asking her to go under another mountain and subject herself once again…

Almost as though I had said the words out loud, Feyre came back to herself, glanced around and then stood, placing her napkin on the table. Casting me a brief look she announced quietly, “I’m going for a walk.”

A part of me wanted to join her, not for her protection, I had no doubt she could protect herself, not that it would be necessary here in Velaris - I knew she would be safe. But there was something in her face and demeanor that told me she needed this time to think by herself. So instead I merely nodded and watched her leave, finding myself alone with my thoughts that took little time to crowd my mind, nearly overwhelming me.

Standing, I made my way into the living room and sat in one of the plush arm chairs, leaning back and closing my eyes.

Mother above, what was I doing? I was planning on sacrificing Velaris, my city, the city my ancestors had bled to protect for centuries, and here I was, about to use it as a bargaining chip. Would I be the High Lord that would bring about its destruction? Was this to be my legacy? And yet, these thoughts did not weigh nearly so heavily as the thoughts of what I was about to do to Feyre. I sagged forward with a groan, resting my elbows on my knees and burrowing my hands in my hair, squeezing my eyes tighter.

Hewn city… last time I had been there I had sentenced a male to death. Already the fae there hated me, but this would be worse. Who I would have to be, the mask I would have to wear… she had seen me like that before, Under the Mountain, and I had spent _weeks_ trying to show her I was not that mask, trying to prove I was different… that I was worthy of her trust, if not her affection. And now I would have to put all that aside and be the monster everyone believed me to be.

Swallowing hard, my chest ached with the weight of these decisions, the burden of the High Lord. I was risking everything I loved on this one chance… tears pricked my eyes, but I would not let them fall. I did not deserve to cry. For all that I had done, and would do, I had not earned the privilege of unburdening my soul with my tears. This was my penance.

I’m not sure how long I sat there, the weight of my thoughts crushing me until I wasn’t sure I could even stand beneath them. Eventually the thought came to me, and I wasn’t sure if it was my salvation or my downfall. I could ask her _not_ to do this, not to come with us to Hewn city… it would still be her choice, but I could _ask_. All of the sudden it was like I could breathe again, and I sat up, opening my eyes and looking around. It was considerably darker and I knew I was still alone, that Feyre had not returned, but if I had to guess, she would return soon.

Pushing myself up I made my way towards the foyer until I reached the stairs and leaned against the banister, my hands in my pockets, and waited.

I didn’t have to wait long, I heard the front door open and then close, and then she was standing in front of me, her cheeks pink from the cold air, her gray-blue eyes studying me as though she could see straight to the depths of my soul.

Her eyes narrowed and she asked me quietly, “What’s wrong?’

I felt my heart race as I took in the sight of her, my salvation and my destruction. Swallowing, I said quietly, trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible. “I’m debating asking you to stay tomorrow.”

Her body stiffened as she crossed her arms, pain flashing across her eyes. I knew what she was thinking, imagining another house she had been locked up in, another place where she had been cast aside for her “protection”, and I winced.

“I thought I was going.”

I reached up, nervously running a hand through my hair then let out a breath. “What I have to be tomorrow, who I have to become, is not… it’s not something I want you to see. How I will treat you, treat others…”

She gave a slow nod and responded, “The mask of the High Lord.”

“Yes,” I said softly and took a seat on the bottom step of the stairs, feeling weighed down again.

She remained standing as she considered this before asking, “Why don’t you want me to see that?”

I looked away for a moment before meeting her gaze and laying myself bare before her. “Because you’ve only started to look at me like I’m not a monster, and I can’t stomach the idea of anything you see tomorrow, being beneath that mountain, putting you back into that place where I found you.”

I watched the shadow of my words cross over her face as she considered what I said, and knew by the way her body relaxed and almost leaned towards me, as though reaching out to comfort me, that she would remain steadfast in her decision to go.

“Let me help. In whatever way I can.”

Sorrow etched itself on every plane of my soul as I explained quietly, “The role you will have to play is not a pleasant one.”

And then she said the only words that could redeem me.

“I trust you.”

Warmth spread through me like a wildfire and my breath caught in my throat. She _trusted_ me? Mother above… I could never have hoped for this, I prayed for it, yes, dreamed of the day when she would trust me, but I never hoped it would actually happen. And now it had happened and that trust would be tested at the gates of the nightmare court. It was bittersweet and all the more beautiful for it.

She came to sit beside me on the stairs, near enough that I could feel the chill of the night air still clinging to her and I desperately wanted to reach out and pull her close, to feel her body pressed against mine, to give her my warmth.

“Why did Mor look so disturbed when she left?”

Her question distracted me from my thoughts and brought its own darkness to shroud my mind as I swallowed hard, remembering all too clearly what my beloved cousin had suffered in order to win her freedom. I did not want to speak of it, did not want to put words to this darkness, but she had asked and I could deny her nothing.

“I was there, in Hewn city, the day her father declared she was to be sold in marriage to Eris, eldest son of the High Lord of Autumn Court.” I felt her body stiffen beside me, but she remained quiet, listening. “Eris had a reputation for cruelty, and Mor… begged me not to let it happen. For all her power, all her wildness, she had no voice, no rights with those people. And my father didn’t particularly care if his cousins used their offspring as breeding stock.” I fell silent, and it was only her question that drove me to continue the story.

“What happened?”

Looking down at my feet, my hands interlaced to keep them from trembling with ancient rage. “I brought Mor to the Illyrian camp for a few days. And she saw Cassian, and decided she’d do the one thing that would ruin her value to these people. I didn’t know until after, and… it was a mess. With Cassian, with her, with our families. And it’s another long story, but the short of it is that Eris refused to marry her. Said she’d been sullied by a bastard-born lesser faerie, and he’d now sooner fuck a sow. Her family… they…” The words caught in my throat as I remembered the terror as I tried to find her, tried to stop it, how I went to Azriel and sent him to search for her, how it had taken days, and when he found her… Clearing my throat I said in nearly a whisper, “When they were done, they dumped her on the Autumn Court border, with a note nailed to her body that said she was Eris’s problem.”

I felt the shock radiate down the bond from her, followed swiftly by rage that was an echo of my own.

Gritting my teeth I nearly growled as I continued. “Eris left her for dead in the middle of their woods. Azriel found her a day later. It was all I could do to keep him from going to either court and slaughtering them all.”

I fell silent, staring ahead as the memories flooded my mind, the sight of her broken and bleeding in Azriel’s arms. It had been a near thing, saving her, and that was only her body… her mind had been broken. She had been lost to the darkness, tormented by what they had done to her, and I had feared she would never recover. It took time, years, but eventually she came back to herself, she rebuilt herself into the female she was today. Proud and strong, confidant and happy, but yet… the darkness still remained, hovered at the edge of her mind and soul, ready to draw her back into it the minute she gave up the fight.

I worried that one day she would succumb, that the darkness would overwhelm her. And every time she had to go back under that mountain, every time she came face to face with her father, I worried this would be the last time. I had laid at her feet her father’s life, hers to claim whenever she so desired, and I had made it very known to him that every breath he took was at her mercy.

And yet, still I worried.

Beside me Feyre remained quiet, processing what I had just told her, absorbing the horror of what had happened to her friend - because yes, I believed Feyre and Mor were truly friends, bonded perhaps in the only way one could be when they had faced the worst the world had to offer and come out on the other side.

I felt Feyre shift to face me and I looked up to meet her gaze, finding face softened in a way I had not seen before, even as her eyes hardened with resolve. She reached out and took one of my hands in hers and the touch of her skin on mine sent a shock of pleasure and… _relief_ through my entire body, as though it was the first time I had been able to spread my wings in a century. Swallowing hard I stroked my thumb across the back of her hand, feeling the smoothness of her skin beneath my calloused finger and I _craved_ more of her, a hunger that ran so deep it overwhelmed every other thought in my mind. How was it possible that she could center me and yet shatter me all at once?

“Tell me,” she said softly, still holding my hand and meeting my eyes, “what I need to do tomorrow.”

Taking a breath, I gently squeezed her hand then began to explain. “Keir is a suspicious bastard. Hewn city is built on lies and deceit, every action there is a power play, and Keir wants power. We know that word of you leaving Spring Court has reached other courts by now, though the story about your departure is… confused at best. We can use that to our advantage.” She remained quiet, listening closely, her body still angled towards mine and I found my anxiety soothed by her presence. “Tomorrow we will all be playing a part, and mine is to be a monster. You have seen it before, Under the Mountain. You will play the part as my… pet. Keir will want to know what your being with me really means, he will be distracted trying to figure you out. We will play up the story that I ‘stole’ you, without ever actually saying it. I will have to touch you - toy with you, display you, but Feyre, understand this,” I held her gaze and squeezed her hand again to press upon her the enormity of what I was about to tell her. “ _You_ are in control. You decide how far this goes, and if you can’t handle it, tell me and I will make an excuse to get us out of there. Do you understand?”

Her gaze did not falter as she nodded once, squeezing my hand in turn.

And for the first time, the weight of these decisions were not crushing me as I felt her take up the burden along side me.

With her at my side, in whatever capacity she might offer me, I could face the coming day without trepidation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I am just as surprised as you are to have another chapter out already! I know I am releasing this section differently than the previous ones, but part of that is because I am streaming myself on Twitch as I am writing, so when I finish the chapter, rather than holding onto it, I'm throwing it onto here. I hope you all don't mind!  
> The next chapter is one of the really fun ones in the book (you know what's going to happen, some fun throne action yo!)  
> Unfortunately I can't stream writing that part due to Twitch's TOS. But I am hoping to have that chapter done soon and uploaded within a few days.  
> If you do want to join me as I work on writing this and my other projects, hope over to my twitch channel: https://www.twitch.tv/otterlywasted  
> You can also follow me on twitter:  
> https://twitter.com/OtterlyWasted
> 
> Also thank you everyone who has sent me comments concerning my health, I so appreciate every comment and especially those. I am doing ok, my vision is still a problem as we can't go see the specialist right now because of the pandemic going on (so my husband has set up some really big screens for me and I have blown up the text large enough that I can read it easily lol.)  
> I hope everyone is being safe and doing well during this difficult time.  
> <3


	3. The Sound of Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.
> 
> I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.
> 
> This Section:  
> Ch. 1 - Meeting with the Queens the first time.  
> Ch. 2 - Plans to steal the Veritas  
> Ch. 3 - Under Hewn city - on the throne. (ADULT)  
> More chapters to come soon! (Fingers crossed!)
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

I was terrified.

Though Feyre and I had discussed what we would be doing, covered in lengthy detail the roles we would play, and despite how calm and accepting she appeared to be… I was still completely terrified. I did not want to go to Hewn city, but more than that, I did not want to subject Feyre to that darkness, I did not want to treat her like a pet, and I did not want her to see the cruelty that was occasionally inherent of my position as High Lord.

Yet, here we were.

Soaring through the frigid mountain passes on our way to Hewn city. I had winnowed our group to the outskirts of these lonely mountains; Cassian, Azriel, Feyre and myself. My brothers had taken to the air swiftly as I carried Feyre into the skies, flanking us in a tight pattern, our protection and forward scouts. The three of us were cautious, eying the dark forests that passed below for any signs of danger, though our scouting could only manage to occupy part of my mind, the rest continued to swirl with doubts; and even the warmth and weight of Feyre in my arms did little to settle my growing anxiety.

“Amren and Mor told me that the span of an Illyrian male’s wings says a lot about the size of… other parts.”

I probably shouldn’t have been surprised at the words that fell from Feyre’s mouth, I knew she had a wicked mind when she wanted to, and yet the shock flashed through me regardless, followed on hits heels by a flash of desire I had not felt in years. It was the desire that made my breath catch - I hadn’t felt desire in over fifty years, not even the few times I had thought of kissing Feyre, or at least not to this intensity. The old rumor about Illyrians and wings not withstanding, had she been thinking about my… parts? Did she desire me in turn?

I looked at her sharply, trying to read her face before returning my gaze to the forest sweeping below us and replied as calmly as possible. “Did they now.”

I felt her shrug her arms, and respond far too nonchalantly. “They also said Azriel’s wings are the biggest.”

Glancing back at her face the realization hit me that she was _teasing_ me. Playing. Forget the shock, the desire - the fact that she felt like playing at all, in light of what we were about to do and despite all that she had been through, she had found it inside of herself, the joy to tease me. I was _thrilled._

Holding back my grin by inches I replied in kind. “When we return home, let’s get out the measuring stick, shall we?”

Her cheeks flushed in a way that was not due just to the cold and she pinched my forearm. I couldn’t help but flash her a wicked grin, two could play at that came. I tightened my hold on her before I leaned forward towards the pine specked, snow covered ground, tucking my wings in closer to by body, and plummeted us into a near free fall. Feyre clutched tightly to me, pressing her body firmly to my own and let out a wild scream.

I laughed, delighted and shifted my position again, spreading my wings to catch the current and rise up higher into the air once more. I tilted my head closer towards her and said teasingly, “You’re willing to brave my brand of darkness and put up one of your own, willing to go to a watery grave and take on the Weaver, but a little free fall makes you scream?”

I felt her tense body shiver slightly as she hissed at me, her eyes squeezed tight, “I’ll leave you to rot the next time you have a nightmare.”

I withheld my snicker, just barely, and crooned at her sweetly. “No you wont. You liked seeing me naked too much.”

Her eyes snapped open to glare at me. “Prick.”

I couldn’t withhold my laughter any more, and it came out in a booming rumble. She closed her eyes again and shifted her grip on me, clinging tightly still, which I thoroughly enjoyed, until her knuckles brushed one of my wings, sending an electric pulse of pleasure through my body, causing me to nearly gasp.

Without opening her eyes I felt her finger tips extend further, brushing lightly across the inner ridge of of my wing, and I couldn’t help the shudder that ran through my body or the soft groan that escaped my lips. The pleasure was exquisite, bordering almost on pain, the sweetest agony. I wanted more, wanted to beg her not to stop, and at the same time wanted to plead for mercy.

Swallowing hard past the lump in my throat and said tightly, “That, is very sensitive.”

I felt her fingers pull away sharply, curling back around her shoulders, and could see her head tilt up to look at me, her eyes squinted against the wind as she studied my face. I kept my eyes on the mountains, feeling almost embarrassed as I refused to look at her.

“Does it tickle?” She asked in her inquisitive way.

I couldn’t help but glance at her then and the thought came unbidden to my mind, of making her feel the same sort of exquisite pleasure. I said quietly, “It feels like this.” Then I tilted my head forward and just barely brushed my lips across the delicate tip of her ear, pursing my lips and blowing a thin stream of air across her flesh. I felt her back arch and her head tilt up, a quiet gasp escaping her.

Warmth flooded through me as I watched her reaction to the subtle pleasure I gave her, but not just that, she didn’t withdraw from me in disgust. She had truly enjoyed it. Mother above…

“Oh,” she mumbled unsteadily.

The smile that crossed my face was one of pure joy, and I desperately wanted to kiss the tip of her ear and work my way down to her mouth, and the thought of that was… breathtaking. I _wanted_ to give her pleasure, as much as I wanted to receive it from her, wanted to feel her fingers on my wings and my body. I yearned for it in a way I hadn’t in so many years that I had forgotten how it felt to desire another person.

Drawing my head back reluctantly, I meet her gaze, slightly glazed over and uncertain, I went on to explain, trying to distract myself from doing more than either of us was truly ready for. “If you want an Illyrian male’s attention, you’d be better off grabbing him by the balls. We’re trained to protect our wings at all costs. Some males attack first, ask questions later, if their wings are touched without invitation.”

Her eyes widened slightly as she blurted out suddenly. “And during sex?”

I smirked widely at the question, shifting my attention back to the mountains, scanning them once again as I considered her question. “During sex, an Illyrian male can find completion just by having someone touch his wings in the right spot.”

Her body seemed to grow warmer, becoming almost imperceptibly tenser against mine, though it was her next question that threatened to knock me out of the sky completely. “Have _you_ found that to be true.”

I returned my gaze to hers, staring at her as I laid myself bare once again before her, offering her nothing but the absolute truth. “I’ve never allowed anyone to see or touch my wings during sex.” I shift slightly, tightening my arms around her, feeling awkward and almost naked as I continued to explain. “It makes you vulnerable in away that I’m not… comfortable with.”

She held my gaze as I explained, but then let it drift away to explore the mountains, spotting the moonstone palace coming up before us. “Too bad,” she said softly, shocking and almost destroying me. Did she not understand what I was saying? That I had withheld that part of me all of my life, waiting for the _one_? For her?

“Why?” I asked cautiously.

She shrugged, and shockingly I noticed the corners of her mouth struggling to curl into a smile, the like of which I had never before seen on her face in my presence.

“Because I bet you could get into some interesting positions with those wings.”

The laughter burst from me, loud and riotous, before I leaned forward, my nose grazing her ear as I began to whisper, “Why Feyre darling…” when something ripped past us in the air. Pure instinct caused me to pull my wings in tight and twist so that my back was towards were the object came from, insuring she was turned away from the danger, protecting my Mate as I aimed headlong for the ground.

A litany of swear words tore from me as more of the objects rushed towards us and I recognized that they were arrows. Twisting my body again I veered to the side and snatched one of them out of the air just before I threw out a shield of darkness, wrapping it around both of us, insuring the rest of the arrows bounced harmlessly away. Hovering in the air I inspected the arrow before dropping it with a hiss.

Ash arrows. Meant to kill.

Rage boiled through me as I angled downwards again, racing for the ground, aimed towards where the arrows were shot from. I had enough presence of mind to reach out and brush a thought across Azriel and Cassian’s mind.

_Enemies below!_

They responded immediately, throwing their own shields up, translucent red and blue, and followed me down towards the ground, only a beat or two behind me. Yet before I could reach the ground, at the edge of the pine forest, the arrows stopped flying and appeared to disappear entirely.

Slamming into the snow packed ground, puffs of the snow flying and scattering around me, pure, unadulterated rage radiated through me, pounding through my blood. It was one thing to attack me, I was used to that, expected it even, but when my _Mate_ was with me? It was another thing entirely me. I could taste the rage, burning metallic on my tongue, could see it red tinted in my vision. Letting Feyre stand on her own two feet, I shifted her in such a way that she was positioned behind me, standing in fierce defense before her as I scanned the forest for enemies.

Azriel and Cassian landed at my sides, forming a shield behind and around Feyre, their shields withdrawing into their siphons, ready to be summoned at a moments notice as they too scanned the forest.

Without glancing at them I barked my orders sharply. “Take her to the palace, and stay there until I’m back. Az, you’re with me.”

I felt Feyre tense behind me, and could have groaned as I felt her step back and announce decidedly, “No.”

I whirled to glare at her as I could not but help to snarl. “What?” I was not truly angry at her, rather I was terrified for _her._ The mating bond was pounding through me - _protect, protect, protect._ It was hard to think past it, to consider that she had options as every fiber of my being called out to keep her safe.

She met and held my eyes, gray-blue and fierce. “Take me with you.”

And I remembered that moment in the palace, hours after we rescued her, exhausted and broken, when she had stood and begged. “ _Take me with you._ ”

And I knew what she was really saying - _Don_ _’t leave me behind._

Agony.

Agony at the thought that she had to beg, that she knew what it was to be left behind, discarded, abandoned… agony at having to force down the mating bond that threatened to strangle me with its unrelenting demands.

Yet I trusted my Mate, believed in her, and it was her choice, always her choice.

Cassian and Azriel said nothing, remaining still as they awaited their orders, while their eyes studied the forest - giving me time to make my final decision.

But I still needed to be convinced - I would not, could not leave her in danger unless she could prove herself useful in this instance. If she had nothing to offer in this moment she could be a greater hindrance, not just a liability.

Tucking my wings in close I crossed my arms and studied her face, waiting to hear her argument.

Of course my Feyre did not back down as she began her defense slowly, thought out and steadfast. “I’ve seen ash arrows. I might recognize where they were made. And if they came from another High Lord…” Her words trailed off for a moment, pain flashing across her eyes before she pushed on. “I can detect that too.” She tilted her chin up then, proud as she said, “And I can track just as well on ground as any of you.” She would get no argument from me there, except perhaps from Azriel, but he remained silent. “So you and Cassian take the skies, and I’ll hunt on the ground with Azriel.”

The pounded rage in me eased to something a little more tolerable as her words washed over me. Her argument was well thought out and presented, and done on the fly and there were no points to it that I could honestly disagree with. She _could_ help, and instead of losing one Illyrian, I kept both to aid me, along with her unique gifts and well trained eye.

She had won, and despite my fury, I was proud.

Without looking away from her I said quietly, “Cassian - I want aerial patrols on the sea borders, stationed in two-mile rings, all the way out towards Hybern. I want foot soldiers in the mountain passes along the southern border; make sure those warning fires are ready on every peak. We’re not going to rely on magic.” Finally I looked away from her when she realized I wasn’t going to fight or deny her right to help, the relief and gratitude brimming in her eyes overwhelming. Turning to Azriel I continued with my commands, “When you’re done, warn your spies that they might be compromised, and prepare to get them out. And put fresh ones in. We keep this contained. We don’t tell anyone inside that court what happened. If anyone mentions it, say it was a training exercise.”

Both Cassian and Azriel nodded, accepting and preparing to carry out my orders. Returning my gaze to Feyre, I drank in the sight of her and tried not to consider the possibility that this might be a trap, that this could be the last time I saw her.

“We’ve got an hour until we’re expected at court,” I said quietly. “Make it count.”

\- - - ~*~ - - -

The next hour was spent in a nearly fruitless search that only served to further enrage me.

Cassian swiftly sent the army into place, sweeping the mountain passes, with a full contingent of Illyrian warriors patrolling the skies and the shoreline. They found nothing.

Azriel and Feyre scoured the forest where the attack originated from, using both of their skill sets to track the movements of the attackers, and while they could find tracks through the snow, they could find nothing else. Not a scrap of fabric, a strand of hair, or a fallen arrow. It was all gone.

For my part I turned to that which was inherent to my bloodline - not just the power of darkness that thrummed through me, but rather the land I was tied to. I belonged to this land as much it belonged to me, perhaps more so, and those fae who lived here were tied to me as well - it was a truth that many High Lords opted to forget.

I was not one of them.

I cloistered myself at the moonstone palace in order to not be disturbed, and stood in the open air veranda before reaching out, sinking my consciousness deep into the earth, becoming one with the rock and stone and soil. The ground thrummed with life, sleepy thanks to winter, but still alive and almost cognizant in a unique way. It recognized me, welcoming me home like a long lost brother. I could feel the land and the people on it, not the individuals, but rather the clumps of fae in the cities and tribes that dotted my land. I could feel where drought and sickness lay, could track large movements of individuals in an Illyrian camp shifting location for better hunting, and a group of fae traveling to a religious monument.

What I could not feel were the attackers, though I knew there had to have been several of them, I could not sense them anywhere on my land. While there were people in my court who felt malice towards me, a great many living beneath the mountain I currently stood on top of, none of those people had the sense of being aggressive recently.

Whomever the attackers were, they were no longer here, gone without a trace.

Of course it would make sense that they had winnowed in, if the Night Court was like other lands. However we had ancient protections in place, built into the stone of these lands, that made it difficult for fae to winnow in. Of the Courts pissed off enough to send assassins after me currently, there were only two, Spring and Summer. Of those two courts, assassins were not really Tarquin’s way of handling things, that left only Tamlin. Tamlin, with whom assassins were definitely his style, didn’t have a chance in hell at bypassing our shields on his own, he didn’t have the power or skill. The only court that I suspected had the knowledge and ability to break through our protections was Day, and unknown to most, Helion was a close and relatively trusted ally and friend, and unlikely to aid either Spring or Summer in this attack. That left Hybern, who had both power and skill in spades… and more than a little malice towards me.

While Hybern had ultimately failed in this attack, he had succeeded in bypassing my wards and shields yet again, and while it did further my rage, terror was the emotion that superseded everything else. If he could break through the wards to my entire court, what did this mean for Velaris when I was on the cusp of revealing it? Was I signing its downfall?

As a result of these dark thoughts I was in a thoroughly foul mood, and about to enter an equally foul place. It was a shame Amren wasn’t here to join us this time, I’m sure she would have enjoyed the likely fallout.

Before descending down into the mountain, Cassian and Azriel joined my side, both just as grim as I was. The three of us took a few minutes to shift our outfits, as though donning costumes for a play. Cassian and Azriel activated their siphons with a touch of their power before their bodies became covered in their black, scaled battle armor, covering them from the top of their shoulders to their feet. This armor also included additional siphons, giving each of them a total of seven - absolutely unheard of amongst Illyrians. Neither of them wore weapons, except for Azriel’s dagger, Truth-Teller, though they hardly needed them, and if they did, could summon them in an instant.

For myself, with a flash of darkness, I shifted out of my typical Illyrian leathers into my best black outfit, the fabric lush and fine and the deepest black possible. Atop my head sat a crown, black metal twisting up to hold glimmering diamonds, like stars in the night sky, brutal and beautiful. With another shift of power I cloaked my wings, as I always did for my visits into Hewn city, and most places outside of Velaris and the Illyrian mountains.

Glancing at my brothers to check if they were ready, and with a nod, I reached out to grip their forearms and winnowed us down into the mountain, to an antechamber just outside the throne room of my castle. Letting go of them they shifted to their positions in front of me, their postures straight and tall, and their eyes casting about calmly, surveying the dark corridors and alcoves. The shadows twisted and swarm around Azriel, not fully encasing him as they sometimes did, but were a constant, visible presence, keeping him apprised of things we could not see.

Behind them I slid my hands into my pockets and took a breath, looking down at the dark tiled floors beneath my feet and muttered quietly, “Hello darkness, my old friend…”

A line from a song I once heard as a child that stuck in my mind, and even now, all these centuries later, whenever I descended into the depths of Hewn city I found myself saying it, almost like a prayer. It used to make Cassian laugh and Azriel roll his eyes, though neither responded at all this time - there was too much at stake.

Taking one more breath, I lifted my chin, sliding on the mask of the cruel High Lord, arrogant and powerful. Reaching out with my mind I brushed a tendril of darkness across Mor’s mind, alerting her to our arrival, and then waited a short count before signaling Cassian and Azriel to clear the path.

Before we reached the arching doors into the throne room I removed the last veil I normally used to conceal my powers, exposing to anyone who dare look upon me the sight of the true High Lord of Night. Darkness hovered around me, drinking in the light and casting it into its depths - an eternal promise, that always the light will descend into darkness, the beginning and end of all things.

As the doors were opened, and Cassian and Azriel passed through them a few steps ahead of me, I could see the fae turning to stare with fear, malice and disgust, and that was all before they had even seen me.

Across the sea of lowered heads and hateful glares, I searched and found the only eyes that could ever hope to redeem me, taking comfort in the sight of her before looking away.

A heartbeat later and the rest of the fae saw me, and it was pure instinct that caused them to lower their gaze, however once we approached the throne and Cassian and Azriel moved to stand beside Mor and Feyre, it was learned obedience that forced them to their knees.

“Well, well,” I said to absolutely no one, instead letting the cruel purr of my voice echo through the chamber, causing a few fae to draw further back from me. “Looks like you’re all on time for once.” The words, _so I won_ _’t punish you just yet_ , hung on the air and Cassian lifted his head to grin, as though almost begging to be let loose on my subjects. There were days I was sorely tempted… there were days I had let him do so. I hoped this was not one of those days. I did not want Feyre to see the brutality of this court that close.

Reaching the edge of my dais I came to a stop in front of Feyre, kneeling at my feet, her head bowed, and it broke my heart, absolutely shattered it. She should never be forced to kneel again, not for a game, nor for me… but she knew the stakes as well as I did, and like me she was willing to sacrifice everything to save those she loved.

In this moment, staring down at her, I was certain, absolutely positive, I had never loved her more.

And there was quite possibly no worse moment for me to say it or for her to figure it out.

We had a game to play, and I could be nothing but the cold, cruel bastard she had once thought me to be.

Lifting my hand, I curled my fingers beneath her chin and lifted her breathtakingly beautiful face, taking in the sight of her kohl-darkened lashes, making her gray-blue eyes sparkle like the sea at night, and the ruby red lips that at first made my heart clench in fear, remembering Amarantha’s red lips, but the sight of it on Feyre’s face was different. It didn’t terrify me or make my gut clench in shame; it was alluring and sexy and Mother above, I wanted to kiss that red lipstick off her plump lips.

For the briefest of seconds my gaze lingered on the black diadem that sat on her brow, flecked with diamonds, a match to my own. I couldn’t help the smile that curled my lips, though I knew there was no true joy in it, yet I hoped she could see something in that smile to remind her this was not who I truly was.

“Welcome to my home, Feyre Cursebreaker.” The words echoed around the room, bouncing off the dark walls, and though not one other person spoke, the tension in the room increased three-fold. Many of the fae in this room had been Under the Mountain, and likely had seen her, but my words confirmed her identity.

In response she lowered her eyes, submissive, and I could not bear it. Clicking my tongue I gripped her chin a little tighter, waiting until her gaze met mine again, then tilted my head.

“Come with me.”

She rose gracefully to her feet at the final tug on her chin, and I could not help but sweep my gaze over her body. For a second I was sure my heart had stopped, and was honestly surprised I didn’t find myself on the ground at _her_ feet. While in truth I had dressed her similarly Under the Mountain, at least in the cut and style of dress, but where those outfits had been almost garish in their colors, this was a black that sparkled in the dim lights of the room, with a jeweled belt that hung invitingly low on her hips. That was where all comparisons ended, because something about the black fabric reflected the sheer radiance of her beauty. And while she had been lovely as a human, she had also been terrified, injured and hopeless, where as now she was whole and healthy, powerful and proud. The curves of her body were all female and they drew in my gaze, encouraging me to explore them and making me long to run my fingers over every exposed, and hidden inch of her. And there was no shame in me or on me as I took her in, Amarantha’s legacy did not shadow this moment for me as I had been sure it would.

The realization of that was a freeing, a shattering of bonds that once held me so tight.

It was only years of practice, years of hiding my true thoughts and feelings, that held me together in that moment. That allowed me to turn away from her, instead of grabbing her and taking her home with me. Allowed me to climb the stairs to my throne with her following behind me and sit before the room of fae that looked on with disgust, instead of stripping off the thin fabric from her body and worshiping every inch of her. That allowed me to pull her onto my lap, perching her there, instead of falling to my knees before her and proclaiming to her the truth and begging her to be mine.

And I would have begged. Without shame.

Leaning back against the cold stone of my throne, I slid one of my hands around the bare skin of her waist, to help settle her in place, and the other I slid over the exposed length of her thigh, to show my ownership over her. I felt her body tense, and for a second I thought she would not be able to handle this, and I would have to get us out, but then I noticed the way her skin prickled and she almost seemed to shiver with cold.

Of course, it made sense - one of the side effects of exposing my true power, was that I became cold to the touch as I became darkness made manifest. It was an easy enough problem to rectify, using a touch of my Illyrian born magic I warmed my hands and a second later I felt her relax. I could have smiled, glad to have done this one small thing to ease her, but instead curved my thumb along the inside of her thigh in a slow stroke, attempting to apologize for my oversight.

Glancing over the bowed heads of my people, I smirked and decided the next move in this game of ours. Leaning forward I brought my lips near her ear, briefly recalling the moment we had in the sky, when her fingers had caressed my wings and had to stop myself from shuddering at the memory. Keeping my eyes on my subjects who still knelt before me, I whispered, only just barely, in her ear, while stroking her bare ribs in lazy circles. “Try not to let it go to your head.”

I knew they would all hear what I said, the shape of the room was designed so that whomever sat on the throne could sit and proclaim, and even those fae in the back of the room would be sure to hear every word said.

Feyre stared out over the kneeling fae, taking in the sight of them, and there wasn’t an ounce of fear or shame on her face. “What?” She asked me smoothly, her gaze flickering to mine for a brief second.

I blew a breath of warm air across her ear, feeling her shiver again, and purred, “That every male in here is contemplating what they’d be willing to give up in order to get that pretty, red mouth of yours on them.” I was among those males, considering what I would be willing to lay at her feet for one kiss. My crown? My court? She could have it all.

I waited, with bated breath to see her response… and her reaction stunned me.A part of me had expected her to either withdraw inside herself as she had done Under the Mountain, or to pretend to be submissive, and neither of those reactions appealed to me. Her response however was to smile. Just that. And even though I only saw part of it, her head turned away from me, and even though it was only a half smile at best, it took my breath away.

Radiant. She was radiant.

And no matter how she was dressed, or what role people thought she played in my court, she could not be diminished.

I was proud of her, this female, my Mate, who had found inside of herself her own power, who accepted its truth and was unashamed to flaunt it before these small minded fae, who saw her as nothing but a pet. Let them wallow in their squalor and vileness, let them misjudge her as they saw fit, one day they would realize their folly and they would never recover from it. Leaning back again, a smirk crossing my face, I slide my hand higher up on her thigh, an act that looked possessive in its nature, and to some extent it was, she _was_ my Mate, unrequited though it might be, but in my mind this touch was me saying, _I am proud you are mine._ And as though she heard me, she leaned into my body, as though claiming me in turn, and for the first time since entering this mountain, I felt warmth flood my body.

“Rise.”

My command, quiet in its nature, was obeyed immediately, as everyone took to their feet and awaited my next command. A brief glance to my side showed me where Keir stood, his cold, beady eyes fixed on us with something more than hatred. Perfect.

Brushing a knuckle along the inside of her knee, I dismissed my court with a bored voice, “Go play.”

Once more they obeyed, dissolving into groups who began to gossip, and others who fled to dance, drawn by the hypnotic sound of the musicians near the back of the chamber. No one turned towards the food and drink, nor would they until I had taken my fill, if I chose to do so at all.

“Keir,” I called, my voice cutting through the music and chatter to summon my steward to my side. Mor’s father crossed to stand before us, bowing once again, his icy gaze a near sneer as he took us in, then glanced briefly towards Mor with distaste, then Cassian and Azriel. Cassian stared right back, giving him a slow nod without a smile or a smirk, a reminder that he had not forgotten what he had done to Mor, and what he would do in turn were she ever to ask it of him. But out of the four of us, it was Azriel that he cringed from. Because while Cassian and I would happily kill Keir, and do it brutally, it was Azriel who would take true delight in torturing Keir for as long as he could keep him alive to do so, and would do it with a single-mindedness that frightened even me when I took time to think about it.

Yet I could not deny, I looked forward to that day.

Brushing my knuckles down Feyre’s ribs, I gave Cassian, Mor and Azriel a dismissive nod and they bowed and faded away into the crowd, playing the roles they knew well. Turning my attention to Keir I said in a bored tone, “Report.” From the corner of my eye I saw Azriel disappear into shadows, and no one else appeared to take notice. Good.

Keir narrowed his eyes on me again and said woodenly, “Greetings, milord. And greetings to your… guest.” It was obvious he had another word in mind, but perhaps he did not wish to be killed this day and chose well to keep his comments polite. Smart male.

Tilting my head I flatted my hand against her thigh, feeling the silky smooth of her skin, warm and inviting against my hand, and felt a craving I hadn’t fell before for _more, more, more._ “She is lovely, isn’t she?”

“Indeed,” Keir replied with barely hidden disdain. “There is little to report, milord.” He continued smoothly, ever the courtier, “All has been quiet since your last visit.”

I curled my hand back up along her thigh in long strokes, delighting in the feel of her body against mine, her warmth and weight and the way she shifted against me in response to my touches. “No one for me to punish?”

Keir shifted his weight, as though uncomfortable - it was likely there was someone he would like punished for his own personal gain, and would have suggested, were it not for the wrench Feyre had thrown into his game. He was too focused in figuring out what her presence here meant to toy with his own machinations. “Unless you’d like for me to select someone here, no, milord.”

Clicking my tongue I shrugged in boredom. “Pity.” Leaning forward I caught the lobe of Feyre’s ear between my teeth and tugged on it gently, and nearly groaned at the flavor of her and the way she pressed against me, her legs parting just a little more as I slide my thumb up higher along her thigh, tracing the curve of her lean muscles. I felt the way her body tensed and relaxed, her breathing hitching before it sped up as her breasts rose and fell in a way that taunted and tortured me.

Cauldron save me, this female destroyed me. Shattered me.

Releasing her ear I stilled my hands on her body, giving her a chance to calm down a little, to give voice to any doubts she had. None came as Keir began to drone on about court politics, all of which I already knew thanks to Mor keeping me up to date on a weekly, sometimes daily basis. And still Feyre did not tell me to stop.

Again I began to run my fingers over her, caressing her thigh and her ribs in soft, teasing touches, wondering what had I done in my life to earn this pleasure, tainted though it was with the darkness of the Court of Nightmares. For it was a pleasure, every second she sat on my lap, willing to be touched by me, every minute inch of her body beneath my touch was a pleasure, and a blessing and only served to completely distract me. I barely had the presence of mind to nod as Keir went on and on, he could have asked me to renounce my crown in this moment, and I likely would have agreed to it from simply paying no attention to him.

I wasn’t even entirely sure we were still in Hewn city, was the court still in session? I could hear nothing except for her steady breathing, could see nothing except for her body pressed against mine, and the taste of her skin lingered on my tongue, tantalizing and intoxicating.

I wanted more, so much more.

Leaning forward again, I brushed my nose against her neck where it met her shoulder, inhaling the pine-snow scent that lingered on her still, and then pressed my mouth there briefly, brushing my tongue over her skin again, another taste, another torment. I could feel the mating bond thrumming to life, pounding through me with each moment I continued to touch and taste her, demanding for me to take, take, take. Mine.

She was mine. My Mate.

Ironically enough, it was Keir who saved me from doing something regrettable… the bastard.

“I had heard the rumors, and I didn’t quite believe them.” Something about the tone of his voice caught my attention, and I finally turned all of it onto Keir in time to watch as his beady eyes drank in the full sight of Feyre, lingering on her breasts and between her legs, possessive and hungry. Pure male rage, territorial and overwhelming threatened to explode out of me, to squash this disgusting insect into the ground for the way he seemed to touch her with his eyes.

The rage pounded through me, metallic and red tinted. Mine. Mine. Mine.

Except… she wasn’t, and even she was Mated to me, she still wouldn’t be my toy, what we were doing now was a lie, and though it was difficult to think past the lust and mating bond pounding in me, I knew this to be absolute truth. It was only that which kept me from destroying him completely.

“But it seems true,” he continued, completely unaware of how close his life dangled from the edge. “Tamlin’s pet is now owned by another master.”

Oh if he only knew the truth - she _owned_ me. She always had and always would, no matter what happened today, tomorrow, or a thousand years from now.

Nearly laughing, I managed to twist it into a smirk as I said, “You should see how I make her beg.” I hoped she heard the lie in my words, hoped she knew that it was the other way around, that it was I who begged her. From that first night on Calanmai, when I pleaded in my actions for her ask me to stay and begged in my responses for her to let me go. When we were Under the Mountain and I begged her to live, to stay with me. To when I stole her away to the moonstone palace and implored her to help me save her. To even this moment, here and now, where I beseeched her to forgive me for using her to save my people, our people, those whom we loved most. Nudging at her neck again with my nose, I inhaled her scent to keep myself calm, though it only served to stoke the flames of the bond.

Keir clasped his hands behind his back and arched a brow. “I assume you brought her to make a statement.”

Oh yes, if only he knew, and it was fortunate he did not, for our sakes, and ironically, for his as well.

“You know everything I do is a statement.” I wondered if she heard the truth in those words as well, wondered if she could guess at all the unspoken statements I had made to her since the first night we had met.

“Of course,” he said with a sneer. “This one, it seems, you enjoy putting in cobwebs and crowns.”

I froze, my hands stopping on her skin, damn near clutching her as a talisman to remind myself why I could not kill this sniveling bastard right now.

Of course it was Feyre, who straightened and glared down at Keir with disgust, who broke me from my thoughts of murder. “Perhaps I’ll put a leash on _you._ ”

A flash of shock coursed through me and I was _delighted._ Oh my beautiful, brilliant Feyre. Reaching across the bond I tapped a claw of darkness across her shield, a touch of approval and pride, and once again began to stroke my hand across her ribs. “She does enjoy playing,” I said with a purr. She certainly knew how to play me. With a jerk of my chin towards the feast laid out along side wall of the chamber I said coolly, “Get her some wine.” Breaking another protocol, as much as her wearing a crown was, to let her drink before I did so.

Keir stiffened at being ordered to serve her, but he did not argue and merely turned, striding off to do my bidding.

I placed a soft kiss beneath her ear, an apology and gratitude for everything she was doing now, for how she saved me time and again.

Pulling away just slightly, I surveyed my court, their eyes still on us as I continued to touch and caress her, trying not to let myself get lost in her again as I had before. There was too much at stake, and most of it had nothing to do with the orb and everything to do with her. This is not how I wanted her to know the truth, not in this place, not with us playing parts; when she knew, if she ever knew, I wanted it to be told somewhere else, somewhere safe, where I could be nothing but myself and she could have no doubts.

As a new song began, much like the rest, heady and strong, born of power and lust, like dripping honey and fine wine, she twisted on my lap, her eyes dark and heavy, meeting mine. I wonder what she saw on my face for her own to soften almost imperceptibly.

Concerned, I reached down the bond, feeling along her shield until I felt the smallest of cracks and sent a thought to her.

_What?_

Barely a heartbeat later I felt her brush against my own shield, a gentle request, and opened enough to let her pass a thought to me in turn.

 _You are good, Rhys._ She began, making my heart stutter and then pound as she continued. _You are kind. This mask does not scare me. I see you beneath it._

I swallowed hard, my hands tightening their grip on her for a moment as I held beneath them the most precious thing I had ever known in my entire life. She saw me, truly, not this mask I wore, the cruelty I played at and the lies I told to protect my Court. She saw _me_.

Leaning forward, I so desperately wanted to kiss her, and never, ever stop. Instead, I brushed my lips across her cheek, and this brush of my lips was nothing but absolute gratitude, for saving me. Again. She always saved me, and always shattered me, and at each and every breaking she saved me again.

Drawing back I saw her eyes glitter with mischievousness before she leaned back again, pressing against me and spreading her legs ever so slightly more. Another gentle caress of her mind and I heard her ask quietly.

 _Why_ _’d you stop?_

A low, rumbling growl rolled through me, at the realization she was asking for _more._ From me. With hardly a conscious thought my hands began to move in pure instinct, becoming bolder in my actions. My hand rose higher on her ribs until my thumb grazed the underside of her breast and felt her back arch slightly, pressing closer into my touch, while my other hand slid higher along her thigh, caressing and memorize every inch of her body.

Her head fell back to rest on my shoulder as she kept her eyes on mine, drinking me in as I did her, savoring each other.

I was lost, absolutely lost in her. There was no one else in the world except this female in my arms, her warmth was mine, her breathy noises the only sound I could hear. And at her own touch, her hand running down my thigh, up and down in slow, languid touches, I thought I might explode with the sheer joy that she was touching me.

Open as we were to each other now, I could hear some of her thoughts and feel the power behind them and was floored and delighted. My touch was igniting her, and any other time I would want to see her explode with the pleasure I could bring her, but now was not the time, and this was not the place.

Sending a cool breath of darkness into her mind in order to calm her, I said with wicked amusement.

 _Easy_ _… If you become a living candle, poor Keir will through a hissy fit. And then you’d ruin the party for everyone._

I could tell she understood, it was less about her causing damage and more about the fact that we weren’t revealing that she had powers yet. The monsters here could not be trusted with that knowledge. She swallowed back some of the heat spreading through her, using the cool waters of Summer Court to temper the flame, and I smirked in pride. Though I wasn’t quite done playing with her just yet, nor did she seem done with me either as her hand stayed on my thigh, stroking. Sliding my hand down from her ribs to just above her hip I hooked my fingers into her low slung belt and gently tugged her closer, shifting my hips enough that I knew she felt the hard length of me, if the hitch in her breathing was any indication. I wanted her to know what she did to me, how her fire lit my own, when I had been so cold and barren for so long.

Because of her, for her, I wanted to feel alive again, I wanted to burn for her, and I wanted her to be the flame that brought me back.

And though fire was not my aspect, I felt something wanting to explode out of me, burning along the edges of my conciousness, igniting along my nerve endings.

Lust. Pure, unadulterated lust and desire. It called to me, she called to me, with it’s sweet siren song, drawing me in deeper.

Amarantha had made me her pet, had made me use my body to pleasure her, and not once had I felt lust nor desire for her, yet I had convinced my body to respond as though it had, and shame had colored every action until it shadowed my every waking moment.

With Feyre, I felt none of that. With Feyre, what I felt for her, it was pure, and beautiful, and _real_.

Mother above, I wanted her so badly it hurt. I ached with longing as I never had before.

Breathing in slowly I tried to temper my need for her, refusing to bury it, to lie to myself about it, rather I tried to suffuse my need with the duty that had brought us here in order to keep it from entirely overwhelming me.

It helped, only slightly.

I felt Feyre shift, turning her head slightly to look towards the wall of food and drinks and lock her eyes on Keir, and I mirrored her actions. Keir stood frozen, holding the goblet of wine, and staring at us. I could tell by the way he held his body that he was almost afraid to interrupt us and I couldn’t help but smirk as I held his gaze. Leaning forward I and ran the tip of my tongue along the length of her neck, feeling her shudder in pleasure and arch her back, breathing hard. The taste of her, again, exploded on my tongue, sweet with a touch of spice, made me want to lick every inch of her. I imagined laying her out before me, spread and naked, and using only my tongue to explore her… I would take my time, hours if I could, teasing and tasting until the only word she could moan was my name. The thought of that, of her voice moaning my name, it made me think of free falling, the air rushing past, the ground sweeping up fast. It made my heart race and my body flush with heady desire.

I think Keir saw that look on my face, and the disgust in his eyes grew. I let a touch of amusement trickle down the bond to her.

 _I think he_ _’s so disgusted that he might have given me the orb just to get out of here._

My hands continued to explore her, sliding higher up her thigh, towards the fire between her legs that called to me, beckoning me home.

_You and I put on a good show._

She replied, her voice low and sultry, even just in our thoughts, and it sent shivers down my spine, tantalizing me. I curled my fingers around her thigh, sliding higher still as my other hand caressed upwards again, the tips of my fingers brushing and massaging the underside of her beautiful breasts. I felt her grind against me, pressing her ass back into me, rubbing against my hardon in a way that threatened to make me groan. _More, more, more!_

I knew she felt when she wiggled against me more, taunting me and I couldn’t help but let out a low, rasping laugh. Oh my Feyre, my wicked little thing. She turned again, meeting my eyes and leaning in, dragging her tongue up the column of my throat, and I think my eyes might have rolled back in my head at the feeling on her wet little tongue. I clutched my hands around her, growing desperate, my need and the bond pounding in me with every pulse of my heart. Logic and reason were quickly escaping me and all that was left was pure need, and Mother above how I needed her.

She shifted again, turning her back to me as she pressed back firmly against my hardness and I leaned forward, pressing my mouth to the back of her neck, kissing and tasting her, the pine-snow flavor of her skin mingling with a touch of salty sweat in a way that was quickly becoming addictive.

And then everything shattered.

My hand slid far enough up her leg that the tips of my fingers brushed over the wetness of her, feeling her excitement as I suddenly scented it on her and my mind froze, and raged. MINE! The thought roared through me, _demanding_ that I take her, claim her, make her mine, steal her away from all these fae who stared at her with their lecherous eyes.

And I would have, exploded into night and stolen her away that very moment, if I hadn’t felt Feyre go stiff in my arms, her thoughts freezing as her emotions became colored with shame and uncertainty. Pain exploded in me, a pain I had never known before, not even when she lay dying on the floor Under the Mountain. I felt the harsh slap of rejection, and no matter that she had welcomed it only moments before, she wanted nothing to do with it now.

Of course not, what had I to offer her? She may no longer believe I was the cruel High Lord everyone said I was, but I was still Amarantha’s whore who had done such atrocities at her behest. I was still broken.

I didn’t deserve her - I never would.

Yet I knew those emotions well, the shame and uncertainty that came with using your body to suit another’s needs, and no matter how many times Feyre rejected me, I could not, would not, let her suffer these emotions alone.

Almost instantly I slammed my shield down tight, cutting off my own emotions and pummeling the bond until it merely whimpered in the background. When I was sure I was in control again, I whispered down the bond to her, trying to soothe her, to give her the peace I was never offered.

 _It_ _’s fine,_ I said softly, my heart aching as I continued. _It means nothing. It_ _’s just your body reacting-_

She cut me off, in a forced attempt at humor.

 _Because you_ _’re so irresistible?_

If I hadn’t been so wrecked, I might have actual humor in her words, but the feeling of rejection had spread poison through me, destroying every bit of hope I ever had of claiming her as my own. Yet for her, for her peace, to free her from the guilt that threatened to destroy me, I managed a laugh. Barely.

I moved my hands down, resting one hand on her knee and the other on her waist, in safe, publicly acceptable places, and began very lightly circling my fingers there. A part of me still longed to touch her further, to explore her body, to taste her again, but I wouldn’t force myself on her. She didn’t want me, never would, and I couldn’t be angry at her for that. Truthfully, it would be better for her if she stayed away from me, safer; I had always known that, and yet I had hoped… but now I knew.

I felt despair crowding in around me, threatening to crush me, and ironically, it was only her presence that kept me treading water.

A flicker among the shadows, subtle and not something most people would notice, caught my eye and I glanced out over my court to see Azriel walk out of the shadows and begin to wind through the crowd. I met his gaze and he came to a stop and gave me a subtle nod.

He had retrieved the orb.

I had never been more relieved to know this game was almost at it’s end.

Keeping my eyes away from Feyre, who still managed to play her part, leaning back against me and smiling languidly out at the crowd of fae, I watched as Mor stepped up behind Azriel, running her hands over his shoulders and chest and circling around to face him. He knew far more attention was on him now than before, the rumors about Mor and her Illyrians being one of many hot topic items in this court, so he merely slid one of his hands up to wrap around her bare waist and squeeze once. _Yes._

She offered him a little grin, one that would cause the rumors to rage again, then let go of him and sauntered off. I watched as Azriel just stared after her, his expression appearing distant and bored, and yet I knew how much he longed for her, pinned for her every day of his life. The female he could never have.

The ache in my heart grew nearly all encompassing. Here sat, in my arms, the female that I could never have, who did not want me. I would long for her always, I would never want another, nor love another as I loved her. The pain was… brutal, ripping and throbbing, it left me bleeding. A wound I could not recover from.

I wanted out from here, away from this court of lies and deceit, of destruction, wanted out and away. I needed the sky and fresh air. I needed out.

We had a game to finish though and it would be up to me to finish it now.

Turning my attention back towards Keir I curled my finger at him, summoning him back to my side. With a scowl he turned his attention away from Mor and approached my throne, but just as he reached the dais I reached out with my power and pulled the goblet from his hand, floating it towards me, and setting it at the floor by my feet.

Keir merely scowled further, realizing he had been sent on a pointless errand to be reminded of his place, at my feet - much like the goblet.

Arching a brow I asked in a purr, “Should I test it for poison?” Simultaneously I brushed a thought towards Feyre’s mind, shifting the pieces on the board.

 _Cassian_ _’s waiting. Go._

“No, milord,” Keir groveled with fake sincerity as Feyre began to slide off my lap. “I would never dare harm you.” I smirked, because we both knew it was a lie, and yet we both knew if he ever attempted it, he would not survive. Standing beside me, I could further smell the evidence of Feyre’s excitement; I had done that to her, awakened her body like that, and though the pride threatened to break forth, all I had to do was remember how she had frozen up, how she had felt shame. How she had rejected me.

She began to walk away from me, stepping down off the dais, passing Keir, when his head turned slightly and I just barely heard him hiss out, “You’ll get what’s coming to you, whore.”

Rage and darkness exploded from me, filling my sight with blood red, throbbing in time with the pulse of my racing heart, and filling the elongated chamber with a darkness so deep no one but myself could hope to see through it. I could hear people cry out in fear, and it did not dissuade me. In the darkness I reached out, wrapping my power around Keir, pinning him in place and forcing him onto his knees with such violence I thought I might have heard his knees crack.

Remaining seated I glared down at this disgusting male who threatened my Mate, claimed or otherwise; his threat could not, _would_ not be ignored.

I knew beyond Feyre and Keir the court had fallen silent to watch, knew the music had stopped playing, that a heavy silence had fallen over the room. I knew it, and paid it no mind, my gaze remaining heavily on the male who struggled fruitlessly beneath my power.

“Apologize,” I said quietly. I had no reason to yell, I knew Keir could hear me, I knew the servants in the back of the room could hear me, and I knew all of them could hear the power radiating from my voice. The command of a High Lord - you could try to fight it, but it would take more will power and strength than a maggot like Keir could boast having.

I watched as his neck muscles strained and sweat broke out across his face, trying still to fight my control, and a part of me thrilled that he was fighting it. Like a game of cat and mouse, I was toying with my prey and delighting in it, using this moment to push through the emotions that had been threatening to crush me just moments before.

“I said, apologize,” I repeated calmly, keeping my eyes locked with Keir as I begin to tighten my power around him, focusing on his right forearm, squeezing it agonizingly slowly until he groaned.

A single heart beat later I twisted the power around his arm, diverting it into four specific points until the sound of his bone cracking reverberated around the room, followed swiftly by his scream. I drank it in, the sound of his bones breaking, his scream, drank it in and wanted more… except for a tiny part of me, buried deep inside. The part of me who was not the High Lord but rather just a male, broken and terrified, who had stood aside as others were tortured, or had done the torturing himself, or had been tortured… the male who had lain on the ground, pinned beneath Amarantha’s power as he watched his Mate, the woman he loved more than his own life, was tortured and murdered before his eyes. The broken part of me that screamed in horror at the knowledge that Feyre was watching me do this right in front of her.

And yet I did not stop. Could not stop. This vile male had threatened my Mate, and that was not acceptable. He would be punished, and if he did not apologize, he would be destroyed.

Keir continued to gasp in pain, his arm hanging limp, bone pressing against his skin in awkward angles. And still he did not apologize. Another flick of my power, another crack of bone, and his elbow shattered. Another scream.

He began to sob, tears rolling down his face, dripping onto the ground. Panting with exertion he lifted his head enough to look towards Feyre, and then to me, rage and agony swirling in his eyes, yet his lips formed the words, _I_ _’m sorry._

Smilingly, cold and cruel, I twisted the power around his other arm and splintered it sharply, forcing another strangled scream out of him as he sagged forward, gasping.

Glancing up, I finally looked around the room at the fae who stood and stared, not one of them coming forward in Keir’s defense, not one of them begging me to stop. Power and cruelty - it was all these people knew, and though they hated me for it, despised me for who I was and what I was doing, they respected it.

“Should I kill him for it?” I asked, almost playfully, taunting him with the possibility of finally destroying him.

No one answered. I would have been shocked if they had.

Chuckling humorlessly, I turned my attention back towards my broken Steward and pronounced his final punishment for his threat towards my Mate. “When you wake up, you’re not to see a healer. If I hear that you do…” trailing off, I spun my power around his pinkie finger, cracking it across the middle. Again Keir shrieked in agony. “If I hear that you do, I’ll carve you into pieces and bury them where no one can stand a chance of putting you together again.”

And for the first time since I had come to power, since I became High Lord, I saw true terror on Keir’s face. For the first time he _knew_ I was the High Lord of night, brutal and powerful, and knew I would destroy him. Always before he believed me weak, sentimental, and I had never truly attempted to discourage those beliefs; it was better to let an enemy underestimate you. It was his folly to let those beliefs dictate his actions, and now he paid the price.

Stretching out my mind, I reached into his own, and twisted my power around it, forcing him unconscious, and watched as he fell to the ground limply.

Gesturing briefly I ordered, to no one in particular, “Dump him in his room.”

Two males, whom I knew to be distant cousins of Mor, darted forward to gather up Keir’s broken body and carried him from the chamber. Shifting in my throne I summoned another courtier, the next in command after Keir, to come forth and continue giving me reports on my court and Hewn city. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Feyre continue down from the dais and cross the chamber without a single fae approaching her, giving her a wide berth in fact, until she came to stand beside Cassian.

Harler, the courtier I had summoned forward, began to recite much of what Keir had already told me, and it was information I already knew. I didn’t stop him however, we needed a smooth transition in which to finally exit, so I attempted to focus on what he said, trying to use it as an actual distraction.

It didn’t help much, all of my focus was on the other side of the room, like a moth drawn to a flame, I could barely stand to look away from her. My salvation, and my destruction, and oh, how she had laid waste to me tonight, shattered me into a thousand pieces. Yet every inch of me longed to go to her even now, to fall onto my knees in front of her and beg her forgiveness for what I had done to her, what she had been forced to witness in my court. Forgiveness was all I could hope from her now, she had rejected everything else, and I could barely stand to hope for that.

And I couldn’t help but think, what was left for us now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! So another chapter down, woot woot! I am praying that I did this chapter justice, since it's kind of a pivotal point in the book. Honestly this took me twice as much time to write simply because I was agonizing over it, and hell, I may still go back and change it... who knows.
> 
> Yes, the title is a reference to a song, and I used the first line of the song in this chapter, per request of my husband. He is an awesome guy and helps me out so much, with writing and in life, he deserves a boon or two. :D
> 
> Anyways, I hope you all liked it!
> 
> Finally, I have started streaming on twitch, sometimes games, sometimes writing, I'm unpredictable (not really). Anyways, if you would like to come hang out with me and possibly watch me write, check me out at: https://www.twitch.tv/otterlywasted (Just a heads up, I do cuss quite a bit, so not exactly family friendly... sorry.)  
> You can also follow me on twitter at: https://twitter.com/OtterlyWasted
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading, stay safe!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, sorry it's been a while since an update, but I am trying to crank the chapters out now! I am posting this one chapter instead of all of them at once because I wanted to let you know that  
> A. I haven't abandoned this project, and...  
> B. I have started streaming on twitch! I steam myself writing and playing a few games! (A little weird I know.) Anyways if you would like to listen to my dogs, my husband, the randomness of my brain and watch my writing process hop over to https://www.twitch.tv/otterlywasted I would love to hang out with you! (Just a heads up, I do cuss a lot, so, ugh... be prepared for that.)


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